


at the edge of the map

by SignsandSirens



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Canon Timeline, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Miscommunication, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Title Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17565323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SignsandSirens/pseuds/SignsandSirens
Summary: "I suspect you're something of a misfit yourself, William, just like me," Jack murmured, barely loud enough to cross the short distance between them.Thrown together in the brig and left to contemplate their impending hangings, Jack and Will make a decision that changes their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

_July 17, 1728_

_J_

"The least they could do is let you keep the crown."

Jack peeled his eyes open at the sound of Will's voice drifting from the other end of the cell, feeling only slightly resentful about it. He hadn’t gotten any meaningful rest since his latest marooning two days before and still felt a touch of the bottle ache, unable to entirely sleep off his drunkenness. Elizabeth’s penchant for arson and the ceaseless footsteps and chatter of Norrington’s crew above his head both shared the blame for that. 

There were few ways Jack could praise the _Dauntless_ or its blasted commodore, but the brig was decidedly more comfortable than the _Black Pearl_ 's — drier, for which he was grateful, and larger, with cells measuring three yards by four at Jack’s estimate. It was bare aside from its two occupants, leaving not even a stray nail sticking out of a floorboard with which they could possibly fashion an escape. They had been stripped of weapons and boots, and Jack of his new ill-gotten gains, upon boarding and departing from Isla de Muerta, leaving them barefoot, shackled and confined with nothing to do but stare at the wall and eventually descend into madness. Norrington claimed it was to protect them from themselves, but Jack reckoned that the profit that could be made from selling their belongings following their return to Port Royal mattered more than the safety of two suspected pirates.

Jack dug his elbows into the two walls behind him that joined into a corner and raised himself up, just able to make out the lad watching him under the dim light of a lantern hooked on a far wall. 

"Stolen property reclaimed for God and country, long live the king. A good, law-abiding citizen would've known that,” he mocked, satisfying his desire to pick a fight with Will despite recognizing it as a puzzling act that undermined his own interests. 

Will smiled rather than taking his bait. "I really have changed, haven't I?"

Jack squeezed his eyes shut and flopped back down like a petulant child, earning a bump on his head for the trouble. 

Will, undeterred by the lack of response, said quietly, “They'll hang us, Jack."

"I'd help plot a getaway, but I make a terrible rowboat and 'm fresh out of back hair."

"We're in the middle of the ocean. Even if we managed to break out of this cell, slip past the guards and steal a longboat, it would only prolong the inevitable, I know that."

"You've grown pragmatic in your old age," Jack replied. "After two days adrift at sea, you'd beg for the noose."

"That's not what bothers me. I promised to give my life to save Elizabeth and I'd gladly do so again. It's dying a pirate."

Something dropped in the pit of Jack's stomach that he didn't want to consider long enough to name.

"S'nothing wrong with being a pirate, mate," he murmured in his own strange attempt at being comforting. “At least pirates is honest with themselves. Better to die forthright than live as a hypocrite, eh?"

Will scoffed. "Pirates? Honest?"

Will's skepticism had merit, but Jack was defensive of his claim all the same. "Anyone can be a pirate. One leg, one arm, black, white, man or lass, no one bats an eye. All that matters is that you can pull your own weight and ye don't get seasick."

"I didn't consider that," Will admitted.

"A bunch of misfits we are, that’s all. Better to face the facts rather than try to hide 'em away."

Will deliberated on it for a moment. "But you're a man, you have all your limbs, what sets you apart from polite society? What makes you a misfit?”

Jack grinned, and Will moved on.

"I know how that freedom appeals to you, Jack, but I couldn’t live a pirate’s life. Not that it really matters now if I don't have much life left."

"Ye're not dead yet, lad."

Judging by the sound of graceless clinking, Will attempted to gesture as he spoke. "I've a few days yet in the brig, then one more night in a prison cell. I may as well be dead."

Jack opened his eyes. He had nearly nothing to lose, but the weight of that cherished little, of the handful of days that remained and Will's short-lived opinion of him, sat heavily on his chest.

"There are ways to keep one's spirits up in the most miserable conditions if one has the right company," he said, never allowing his confidence to waver.

"I'm afraid I won't be a very good companion at the moment," Will said, innocent and stupid in a precious way that Jack hated and adored in equal measure. 

Jack, since the moment he had met Will Turner, had struggled with the decision of either preserving that chastity that was so endearing to him or corrupting it beyond recognition. But he was above all things a pirate, and never was there a pirate that would protect a beautiful thing for the world to admire when he could steal it for himself instead.

The rolling of the ship and the chains that bound his wrists and ankles made standing close to impossible. His grasping at the wall in an attempt to bring himself to his feet was unsuccessful. He looked to Will, noticing the young man’s intrigue, and slowly lowered himself to his hands and knees, crawling over to the other end of the small cell. The uncertainty in Will's expression only deepened when Jack knelt by his side, but he didn't back down when the pirate reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

"I suspect you're something of a misfit yourself, William, just like me," Jack murmured, barely loud enough to cross the short distance between them.

Will didn't kick him, didn't shout his love of the fairer sex for all to hear, didn't blink. He stared at Jack and he waited, and Jack didn't intend to keep him in suspense. Glancing back and forth between Will's eyes and his mouth, he leaned in close enough to breathe Will's air before their lips grazed in a fleeting touch. 

Will's lips were softer than they had any right to be after several punishing battles and days of exposure to the salty sea air, Jack noticed. He tasted sweeter than Jack had dreamt of, nothing like the gruel and hardtack they had been fed or the stale water they were given to drink. He tried to chase it a second time so he could better identify it when Will spoke. 

"Jack," he said, their mouths so close that Jack could feel the light puffs of air from the movement of his lips. Jack opened his eyes and saw uncertainty in Will’s as they darted across his face. "I don't, I've never..."

"I know."

Will huffed a bashful laugh. Jack had sacked ships, fought for his very life more times than he could count, but the kiss was the most reckless thing he had ever done, and to see it pay off so beautifully in Will's face brought him unspeakable relief. 

"I thought I'd be hanged for it," Will confessed. "I suppose that sounds funny now."

A bittersweet smile crossed Jack's lips as he intertwined their fingers. "I only wish we'd had this revelation a bit sooner," he thought aloud. "In Tortuga, perhaps, or aboard the _Interceptor_ when we had a ship to ourselves, all alone out on the open sea."

As if to prove his point, heavy footsteps echoed above their heads. 

"Didn't quite envision this with Commodore Norrington lording over," Jack added with a glare toward the ceiling. 

Will hooked his finger in one of the links of Jack's chains. "It's not as if we can get into much trouble with these. Shackling us to keep us from killing each other, if they only knew how wrong they were."

Jack shot Will a knowing look. "Were they really, now?"

The same breathless laughter bubbled from Will's throat, and though it would take the point of a sword for him to admit it, Jack knew that there was little he wouldn't do to hear it now that he’d had the pleasure. He curled his fingers in the front of Will's shirt and pulled them together, their kiss deeper and bolder and more passionate than before.

"Tell me what it would have been like," Will exhaled when they parted.

"Beg pardon?"

Will took a pause, brushing his nose against Jack's. “Aboard the _Pearl_."

Honor and the code be damned, but Jack wished that he could have taken Will back to his ship after the skirmish on the Isla de Muerta. He had mulled over it many times since they had been thrown in the brig, considered what he could have done differently and when, and he knew in his heart of hearts that Will would never have joined him of his own accord, nor would Jack have forced him to come along. To hear Will ask what might have happened had he chosen a different path when he had the chance should have been gratifying, but there was no joy in being right when the gallows loomed for them both.

"Close your eyes."

Will obeyed. 

Jack lifted his hands, cautious so that he wouldn’t hit Will in the nose, to skim his knuckles along his cheek. "Would've set a course and taken ye to the captain's quarters straight away," he said softly. “Saved the celebration with the rest of the crew for the morning.” 

He grazed his fingertips along the length of Will’s throat, felt his trembling heartbeat beneath. They traveled past Will’s collarbone, found the sheer fabric of his shirt and continued down to his vest. It was already halfway unbuttoned, presumably by one of Barbossa’s lackeys so it wouldn’t get in the way when they cut his throat. 

He’d come so close to losing Will then, had barely entered the cave in time to stop his execution. To add insult to that particular injury, he’d had to seem as if he didn’t care whether or not Barbossa carried it out so long as the _Pearl_ was his again. Not for the first time, he indulged in the memory of his former first mate as he lay dying before he focused again on the matter at hand.

“Would’ve brought a bottle of rum, naturally,” he said as he deftly unfastened the remaining buttons. “Offered a drink like a gentleman, taken a few swigs meself when you said no. Lit the candles—”

“You wouldn’t do this in the dark?”

Jack stopped, taking a long look at Will’s face. The slight part in his lips when his mouth was closed, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose; he studied them as one might a masterpiece, committing them to memory. “No,” he whispered back.

He finished with Will’s vest and let it fall open, exposing the simple white tunic beneath. “Do you hear that?”

Will concentrated, his nose wrinkling slightly. “I hear the ocean.”

“Aye.” Jack tugged curiously at Will’s collar, discovering a few flecks and burns that likely resulted from his time as the apprentice of a lazy blacksmith. He swept his thumb against a small white scar and leaned in to ghost a kiss along Will’s jaw. “Freedom.”

“Jack…” 

Using Will’s knees for balance, Jack hoisted himself to his feet. 

“May I open my eyes?”

“Not yet,” Jack said, full of promise. He staggered his way around Will, settling behind him and sinking to his knees. With outstretched arms, he raised his shackled hands over Will’s head and lowered them around his front. With his cheek pressed against Will’s hair, Jack effectively pinned the boy’s arms to his sides as he dragged his hands along Will's chest. “Lean back against me.”

Jack maneuvered them back against a wall, sitting on his haunches and allowing Will to relax. “We were aboard the _Pearl_ , weren't we?” He asked, slipping back into his role. “I pray 'tis more pleasant than your last visit. Did dear old Hector treat you well, by the way? Not as well as I will, I hope, but—”

“I’d rather not think about Barbossa at a time like this,” Will cut him off, sounding a bit strained.

“Perfectly understandable, love. Now I'd ply ye with something sweet after you declined the rum. Grapes, perhaps, or a peach. Ever had one?”

“Never.”

“The most delicious thing you've ever tasted. Only second, I imagine, to kissing you after you've eaten a peach.”

“You’re ridiculous, Jack,” Will said, fondness ringing clearly in his voice.

“I'd sit ye down and take your boots and your stockings off so you don’t track dirt into me cabin. Kiss your ankle to prove it wasn't personal.”

Will must have considered it to be a scandalous notion, and, to Jack’s delight, didn’t manage to muffle his gasp before the pirate could catch it.

“Oh, you make this too easy, darling,” Jack said. “Would I even have to take your trousers off?”

The elbow jabbed into his ribs was answer enough. 

“All right, all right. Another kiss, then.”

The flare of Will’s temper simmered down to embers. He turned his head toward Jack, who rewarded his patience with a chaste peck on the lips. The same could not be said for the attention he bestowed on the outer curve of Will’s ear afterward. 

“I’d take off this bloody shirt so I could get a better look at you.” Jack’s hands, which had rested motionless at Will’s sternum, came to life as he tweaked one of Will’s nipples between his finger and thumb. A sound slipped from him, a combined moan and yelp of surprise. Jack watched the nape of Will’s neck turn scarlet with mortification. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, William,” Jack said in a hushed tone, pressing his lips to Will’s clothed shoulder as encouragement. “I want to hear every sound, see every look on your face. I’d never take my eyes off of you, had I the chance.”

“Truly?”

Jack paused. “You’ve no idea, do you?” 

Will turned his head to give Jack a questioning look, or as close to one as he was capable of giving with his eyes closed. His cheek was still visibly stained with color. Jack touched it with his nose, and the resulting twitch at the corner of Will’s mouth was almost enough to make Jack’s imminent demise worthwhile. 

“Let’s see. Boots, stockings, shirt… That just leaves your trousers, does it not?”

Will stilled in his arms, not breathing, and Jack was afraid he’d gone too far. “It does."

Jack hesitated, unable to discern Will’s mood solely from his tone. “I could leave them on, if you’d like.”

Will shifted back a little. It was easy to mistake for an adjustment to make himself comfortable, but the brush of his backside against the crotch of Jack’s trousers was too pointed to be an accident.

“Jack,” he said, rasping as if he were dying of thirst, “I want…”

“Tell me.”

“I want you to touch me,” he choked out. 

Jack was only too happy to oblige. 

His hands roamed the length of Will’s abdomen and found the hem of his shirt, dipping beneath it in search of his trouser button. Once undone, Jack slipped his uninjured hand inside, wrapping his calloused fingers around Will’s cock and getting a feel of it for the first time. It stiffened in his palm, thick enough to be a handful, and he gave a few experimental strokes more to sate his own curiosity rather than to entice Will. 

Will sucked sharply through his teeth at the touch, determined not to make a sound despite what he’d been told, but Jack knew he was far too sensitive to stay silent for very long. 

“I’d take these cumbersome things off,” he promised. “I'd want to see every inch of you, marvel at the gorgeous thing I was lucky enough to bring to my cabin. You'd kick me again after a while, remind me of what I was supposed to be doing, and I’d stop being so dreadfully inconsiderate. I’d lay you down on my soft featherbed, climb aboard — I’ve kissed you already, haven’t I?”

Will laughed softly, turning his head to steal another kiss from Jack’s lips. It was broken off by his own involuntary sigh of pleasure as Jack twisted his fingers, determined to bring him to orgasm. 

“Go on, please.”

Jack cocked a brow. “Go on?”

“Tell me what happens next.”

“That’s entirely your choice, love,” Jack explained, his voice dropping to a purr. “I could finish you like this if you wish, stroke you until you spend all over my hand.”

“Or?” Will dared to ask, breathing as if he had run from the bow of the _Dauntless_ to the stern and back again. 

Jack teased the head of Will’s cock with droplets of his slick, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Or I could throw your legs over me shoulders and navigate your windward passage, as they say.”

Will was dangerously close to his peak, that much Jack could tell, but he stopped moving. “What?” He panted in confusion. “What does that mean?”

Jack had known many, many men and women intimately, but damn him if he’d ever known one like Will Turner. He pressed his face into the warm column of Will's neck to suppress his smile, determined not to give Will any cause to retreat back into his shell but tickled by his purity all the same. 

“If you'd permit it,” Jack began, dragging his fist up and down the length of Will’s cock until he had coaxed the man into rolling his hips again, “I'd show you bliss known only to a precious few.”

That was slightly more encouraging, it seemed, as Will sank back against Jack’s chest and groaned.

“I'd take you as a man takes his wife,” he said further, quietly to prevent such sordid talk from being overheard, “and make you forget everything else besides the pleasure of being fucked.”

Will’s breath hitched, and Jack remembered it may very well have been the first time he had heard the word said aloud.

“Jack…” He pleaded, losing his rhythm along with his tight grip on control. 

“I'd keep you on the brink of ecstasy until morning,” Jack vowed, “and only at dawn would I finally bring you to climax. Gods, William, say the word and I'd make you _scream_.”

Will dug his heel into the floorboard, and with one final thrust, his back arched into a perfect half-circle away from Jack, crying out his lover's name. The tension disappeared from his body, leaving him languid and content when he slumped back against Jack. 

A perfect end for their first coupling, Jack thought, so it was typical, in his experience, that it would be almost immediately spoiled by pure chaos. 

His ears perked at a strange sound after only a few seconds of luxuriating. Where there had once been footsteps, endlessly annoying like a bizarre form of Spanish water torture, now there was only silence. 

Panic shot up Jack’s spine like a lit fuse. 

“Move,” he said suddenly, sitting up straight and dragging Will’s limp body along with him. 

“Wh—” Will stammered, blinking absently down at Jack’s hands where they worked quickly beneath his shirt to fasten his trousers again. “Jack, what are you doing?”

“No time to explain." 

Finishing with Will’s button just as the door to the hatch opened, he yanked his hands up to unwind them from around Will’s body. What he hadn’t anticipated was Will’s head popping back instinctively to avoid being hit by the shackles, slamming into Jack's nose. 

“Gods, Will!” Jack snapped. 

He would have been lying if he ever claimed it wasn’t partly his own frustration that caused him to shove Will away, but his true motivation was to get the boy as far from him as he could to avoid being discovered in a compromising position. He could only imagine how amusing it must have been for the lieutenant to find them groaning from their various aches and pains — Will sprawled out on his front after being carelessly knocked to the floor and Jack cradling a bloody nose with his knees drawn to his chest. 

“I told them this is what happens when two wild animals are caged together,” Gillette said smugly as he approached the bars.

“Haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, Godfrey,” Jack said calmly. 

“Try not to kill each other before we arrive in Port Royal, would you? I'd hate to deny an eager audience a double hanging.” He chuckled to himself at the thought, turning on his heel to start back toward the stairs. “Don’t think we won’t restrict your rations if this happens again."

“If you starve us, we won’t hang properly,” Jack snarked.

“Whether your necks snap or you flounder around and suffocate makes no difference to me,” Gillette replied over his shoulder, clasping his hands behind his back as he stalled on the bottom step. “But we could take the cat-o’-nine to you both, if you’d prefer.”

Jack opened his mouth to respond with a colorful anecdote about the lieutenant’s mother when he noticed Will struggling to his knees. “Aye,” he said instead, not bothering to mask the bitterness in his tone.

Gillette smiled, far too self-satisfied for Jack’s liking. “Good day, Sparrow.”

“And to ye, Gregory.” 

Jack liked to imagine he could hear the grinding of his teeth even after he closed the hatch behind himself. 

“Jack,” Will mumbled, not daring to come closer. “Jack, I’m sorry, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I know, lad.” Jack touched his nose once it was safe to drop the act and found that it was still bleeding, much to his frustration, so he pinched his nostrils closed and tipped his head back. “I know you didn’t. Good timing, though. That coxcomb didn’t suspect a thing.”

Will, seemingly accepting that Jack wasn’t truly angry, gently moved the pirate’s hand away. “You didn’t want us to be seen together,” he said as he inspected his face more closely. 

Jack couldn’t tell whether it was a question or a statement of fact. 

“They frown upon that sort of thing, y’know. Still in denial about what goes on below decks aboard his majesty’s own vessels.”

“We’re to hang anyway, aren’t we?”

Jack didn’t know how to answer. 

Will sighed, moving stiffly and awkwardly with his wrists bound but somehow managing to tear off a small piece from the hem of his shirt. 

“Is it broken?” Jack wondered aloud.

“I doubt it,” Will said, lifting his hands to carefully sop up the blood from Jack’s lip with the cloth. “Is this how all of your trysts end?”

“Can’t say it’s never happened.”

Once Will was satisfied with his work, he moved in, but he hesitated several inches away. Jack thought he must have wondered whether or not it was acceptable for them to kiss outside of sex, and that simply wouldn’t do, so he leaned in for a quick peck to avoid Will tasting any lingering copper on his mouth, then kissed Will’s forehead.

“You didn’t...” Will said in concern, his gaze falling to Jack’s lap.

“Our lieutenant took care of it.” At Will’s expression of surprise and mild disgust, Jack clarified, “Went soft, William. He’s not nearly attractive enough for that.”

“Did you mean it?” Will asked sheepishly.

“I don't say things I don't mean, William, but you'll have to be a bit more specific.”

“That you wanted to…” He trailed off, unable to say the words. He grew bolder, coming closer and throwing a leg over Jack’s with some careful coordination. “I want it, Jack.”

Jack’s heart sank with regret for telling Will of something he knew that they could never have. He soothed his hands over Will’s chest, hoping to ease the blow. “We can’t. Not here. I dare not imagine what might happen should we get caught doing _that_ , and I don’t have what I need to not hurt you besides.”

Will, surely used to disappointment after a lifetime of it, took it on the chin with a weak smile and settled for a few soft, open-mouthed kisses instead, all that Jack could handle after two exhausting days. The stress melted from Jack’s body and left him dog-tired.

Will likely noticed his half-lidded eyes and the slack in his muscles, kissing him once more before climbing off of his lap. “Lay with me?”

Jack thought he would rather face another mutiny than deny Will such a harmless request. The words stalled on his tongue and guilt played across his features. “We can’t risk someone coming down while we’re asleep,” he said remorsefully.

Will turned from where he’d set out toward his corner, frowning. “What risk, Jack? What is there left to lose?”

Jack declined to answer.

“I’ll be here on the morrow, William,” he promised, returning to his own side of the cell. “We still have time.”

He watched Will’s back as his dark waves poured across the floorboards and his shoulders rose and fell in a rhythm as steady as the tides. 

“Good night, Jack,” Will mumbled.

“Sleep, Will.”

He didn’t look away even after Will quietly began to snore. He had long decided what he would do once they reached Port Royal, and he tucked it away like a treasured jewel to conceal it from the man he knew it would affect most, who would protest most passionately to his plans, who would do everything in his power to stop him. It would hurt the boy, God knew, but he refused to let that stop him from doing what he knew had to be done. 

Will would forgive him. 

Then again, perhaps that was only another lie he told himself so he could sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a story literally years in the making that I've finally decided to post. Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title has been changed from "beat inside me (leave you blind)". Enjoy!

_W_

"On your feet, Turner."

Will stirred at the sound of strange voices and squinted into the unforgiving sun streaming in through the open hatch — that was what he noticed first. After days of adjusting to total darkness aside from that of a single, one-wick lamp, he was blinded when exposed to light again. 

His rough estimate of how long they would be prisoners aboard the _Dauntless_ was supplied solely by Jack, who used his finger to map the distance between Isla de Muerta and Port Royal with imaginary lines drawn on the floor, lacking even so much as dust to use as a marker. It had taken themselves and their drunken, ragtag crew three days to sail that far, he said. For a crew of well-trained sailors eager to deliver the governor's daughter home and hang two pirates, it should take at least four.

The thought of Jack caused him to reach out, groping at thin air and turning up empty-handed. It took him mere moments to realize that he was alone in the cell.

"Where's Jack?" He rasped.

"Sparrow has been dealt with already."

Fear flooded Will's veins like a deluge. They had taken Jack while he slept and had done God only knew what with him, all without making a sound. 

While he had no weapon at hand and had been all but starved for days, it wouldn’t be the first time that his want for a fight had trounced his good sense. Will stumbled to his feet to take on however many sailors had come to retrieve him, forgetting the chains that bound him until he tripped over them and tumbled to the floor.

"Relax, Turner," one of them patronized above his head.

Face down against the planks, Will groaned at the pain radiating across his entire body. With a jangling set of keys, the door was unlocked, and he was hauled to his feet while someone knelt to remove the shackles from his ankles. 

Will stared at the powdered wig and briefly considered kicking it off once his legs were freed, but no matter how satisfying it might have been in that moment, he thought better of deliberately antagonizing the men that might still have had Jack in their possession. Despite the pair of them only having days to live at best, there was no limit to the amount of pain that could be inflicted in that time if their captors were suitably provoked.  


Once his chains were removed, a sailor on each side of him took an elbow and all but dragged Will out of his cell toward the steps leading above decks. He ducked his head to shield his eyes from the light, his senses overpowered by the rapid change of scenery and the lingering question of Jack’s whereabouts left deliberately unanswered. 

With his chin pressed to his chest and stars dancing across his vision when he closed his eyes, he didn’t realize where he was being taken until he was carelessly dropped into a chair across from a gray-haired, bespectacled man in a leather apron. His arms were wrenched from his sides and laid palms-down across the table between them while his cuffs were removed by the same man that had freed him from his shackles. The rough, unpolished wood pressed into the self-inflicted slice across his hand and caused him to wince.

A crowd of uniformed men circled them in a moment’s time like a salivating pack of dogs anticipating a bone. Will was abruptly and intensely aware of how powerless he truly was, feeling like a feral animal that had been caged for too long. His knee-jerk sense of convention wanted him to hang his head in shame, but the thought of Jack caused him to straighten his back and stare his jailers in the eye with a defiant twitch of his lip while his left hand was turned over.

“No sign of tetanus or corruption of the wound,” said the man before him as he inspected the gash. He prodded at the surrounding flesh and seemed satisfied with the result. “No pus or swelling. No fever. Healing normally.”

Will narrowed his eyes. He presumed the man to be the ship’s surgeon, but what was the use of letting the man determine the state of his hand if they were just going to kill him anyway?

The doctor revealed a flask hidden beneath the table and pressed his weight down upon Will’s fingers to keep him still. Before Will could ask the meaning of it, he turned the small pouch over and poured a dark liquid — whiskey, judging by the smell of it — over the cut.

Will shoved the knuckles of his free hand against his mouth to silence any noises that he might make, refusing to give his audience the satisfaction. The sting of alcohol in a wound was hardly pleasant, no matter how effective it might have been, and he suspected that it was no coincidence that he had been dragged out onto the main deck for something that could have easily been performed in the brig.

“If you’ve all had your fun,” he ground out as the doctor began to wrap his hand, “return me to my cell and leave a condemned man in peace.”

The doctor blinked, looking from Will to the crowd of officers. “He wants to go back to the brig?”

“He hasn’t been told yet?” 

At the sound of his voice drifting from on high, Norrington’s men parted like the Red Sea to let the commodore make his way forward until he was near enough to look Will in the eye. “You’ve been pardoned, Mr. Turner.”

Will was stunned into speechlessness, wondering if the commodore would truly take such a cruel joke so far. He turned against the back of the wooden chair and found Port Royal’s harbor sprawled out behind him rather than the endless expanse of ocean that he had anticipated. 

Norrington, reading the perplexity in Will’s face, said further, “Governor Swann is concerned that putting you on trial might unfairly turn the citizens against you, people that have little understanding of the events that took place. Therefore, he’s elected to forgo a trial and has preemptively pardoned you of your charges.”

Relief settled into Will’s bones once the reality of the situation set in, finally understanding why he’d woken without Jack beside him: for his part in Elizabeth’s rescue, and to let him leave under the cover of darkness so as to not cause outrage among the common people, he had been pardoned first.

“Thank you,” Will said, flexing his fingers once the doctor released him and pulling himself to his feet.

“Don’t,” Norrington said, attempting to keep his annoyance in check. “This was almost entirely Elizabeth’s doing. Give her your gratitude, not me.”

Elizabeth, surely spirited away to safety by her father the moment the _Dauntless_ anchored. His many brushes with death hadn’t been for naught so long as she survived unharmed — anything else, including his own life as well as Jack’s, were simple strokes of luck. 

Despite Will’s attempts to remain stoic, a smile broke out across his face. “I’ll be sure to.”

Norrington, with nothing left to say that could be voiced among polite company, turned away. “Take Mr. Turner to shore.”

  
.

The smithy, unsurprisingly, had been abandoned. John Brown had a lamentable habit of disappearing for days at a time even under perfectly normal circumstances, and without his apprentice to craft weapons or make sales for him, there was no use lingering around when he could simply close up and drink at the shop’s expense until a suitable replacement could be found.

Will dragged a finger through the faint layer of dust that had accumulated on the anvil, certain that it hadn’t been used since the _Black Pearl_ had ambushed and raided the city almost two weeks before. 

He rubbed the particles between his finger and thumb and stared at them as if they contained the secrets of the whole world. Two weeks — it was impossible. He was an entirely different person than he had been that night, and no such drastic upheaval could have happened so quickly. The shadows that the hammers and swords cast on the wall felt foreign to him, as if he were seeing them through another man’s eyes. He was certain that a chisel would no longer fit properly in his hand. 

A wayward glance at the bandage wrapped tightly around his palm brought his mind to Jack. 

He was almost comically visible at all times, so it would only do him harm to remain any longer than absolutely necessary. No citizen of Port Royal would tolerate a pirate’s presence, no matter how heroic his more recent deeds, and there was no hope of Captain Jack Sparrow successfully sneaking about in the shadows or disguising himself as anything but what he was. 

Will felt foolish for assuming that he would even make the effort. 

Even more so for half-hoping that he still might. 

He shook the childishly optimistic thought from his mind. Jack was in some seedy tavern on the far side of the island, surely, bartering his way onto whichever lowly vessel could be bribed to drop him at Tortuga. Recalling the two cocottes that had greeted Jack upon his arrival there, he sensed a sudden kinship with them. Perhaps they now had more in common than he ever would have imagined. 

He stood a bit straighter and breathed deeply, bracing himself for the long, agonizingly quiet days ahead until Mr. Brown returned to discover he was not dead or imprisoned and put him to work again. Whether Jack was a mile away or halfway to China didn’t make any difference. 

Though perhaps it could. 

Perhaps it did. 

The reckless, half-formed impulse had one arm in the sleeve of his tattered coat in an instant, but there was a quiet knock at the door before he could even finish putting it on. Will was utterly unashamed of the sigh of relief that escaped him or the way his heart pounded in his chest as he raced to the door, eager to drag the pirate inside before he could be discovered. 

“J—” He swung the door wide open, cutting himself off at the sight of the pale, hooded figure standing in his doorway. 

“Will,” Elizabeth breathed, throwing her arms around his neck. “Will, thank God. Father told me you had been released, but I had to see it for myself.” 

“Elizabeth.” Too stunned to think of proper etiquette, Will caught her in an embrace and held her tightly to his chest. His instinctively took the green velvet fabric of the cloak in his fingers and lowered the cowl that she had used to conceal herself, brushing against the loose chignon gathered at the nape of her neck in the process. Had he ever touched her hair before? He couldn’t remember, but he doubted it. Searching for something to say, his gaze fell to her feet, as it so often did when they spoke, and he noticed that the hem of her gown had tracked through mud somewhere in her hurry to get to him. “Elizabeth, your dress.” 

Her eyes rolled in disbelief, not bothering to look down. “Only you could care about my clothes at a time like this.” 

The truth of her words seemed to bring Will back down to his senses. “You shouldn’t be here,” he murmured. 

“I had to know if he was telling the truth.” Her eyes, wide and expressive as a fawn’s, searched his face. Will imagined she would be furious when she discovered that she could never hide her true feelings behind them, that her eyes would forever be her betrayer. “I couldn’t bear to see you hanged over me. I wouldn’t let them.” 

Despite a thousand thoughts bombarding him at once — half of them concerning Elizabeth’s safety as well as that of her reputation, and half of them wondering whether or not it was too late to find Jack — Will couldn’t help smiling at his good fortune. Elizabeth was unharmed. She was standing in his shop for the first time since they were children after her father decided it was no longer appropriate for a young lady of her status to be seen with him in public. Somehow, against all odds, she was also concerned with whether he lived or died, and he could never have imagined such luck befalling him in his wildest dreams weeks before. 

“You needn’t have worried, Elizabeth." He released her, shutting the door to banish the prying eyes that would come searching for her soon enough. “You’re safe, I'm safe. Even Jack is all right, I imagine, at least until swindles his way into his next bottle of rum.” 

Elizabeth stared, unblinking. Her nose scrunched just slightly in confusion. “What?” 

“Come now, you can’t imagine he’ll stay sober for very long,” Will replied fondly. “He’s been drying out for days in the brig and now he’s let loose. Surely he’ll be celebrating his escaping certain death again before he sets sail.” 

Realization dawned in her eyes, but it was not the warm, understanding kind that he had been anticipating. It was sympathy, regret and anguish mixed into one, and it terrified him. 

“Will.” She touched his cheek, as gentle as a kiss. “You don’t think he’s been pardoned, do you?”

  
.

It was the second time that Will, trembling with rage as he hurtled himself down the stone steps, found Captain Jack Sparrow sleeping across the dirt floor of a Fort Charles prison cell. It seemed far less comfortable than the lower deck of the _Dauntless_ , even considering the peace and quiet of being the only inmate, but at that moment he didn’t particularly care about Jack’s comfort. 

“Get up!” 

If there were tears in his eyes — and he prayed that Jack wouldn’t notice them, wouldn’t expose that he was at his most vulnerable — they were a result of his anger and nothing else. 

Jack stirred languidly from his nap, though Will couldn’t be sure whether or not he had been awake all along and was simply trying to irritate him further. “Here to wish me a good mornin’, love?” 

Will choked out an ugly sound, his voice warbling. “What have you _done_?” 

Jack rose like a shot, concern spelled out clearly across his face, and Will wished he could drop dead where he stood. 

He lumbered to his feet and approached, wrapping his fingers around the iron crosspieces that separated them. “May not want to stay long,” he said gently, trying to tease, but Will could tell that his heart wasn’t in it. “If they find you trying to break me out again, they’ll throw you in right alongside me and all of this will have been for naught.” 

“Answer me, you bastard,” Will ordered, having no patience for Jack’s mockery. “What did you do?” 

“I told the truth. Slept nary a wink for our entire voyage, but it came in handy when the _Dauntless_ anchored last night and someone came to release us from the brig." Jack’s tone was devil-may-care as per usual, but Will suspected that it was for his own sake so as to not cause alarm rather than for Jack’s. "Stomped down into the hold, ordering us to our feet, and I shushed him so’s he wouldn’t wake you. Told him I had a most valuable piece of information that I was only willing to share with the right audience — the governor and the commodore." 

“What information?” Will asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I stuck a blade in your back and forced you to come along to help take back my ship,” Jack said, so confident that it almost sounded like the truth. “You were nothin’ more than my hostage and you acted not of your own volition.” 

“That’s a lie!” 

“It spares one of us from the noose, does it not?” 

Will stepped back, sputtering in shock. “And you chose _me_?” 

Jack shrugged, and his complacency in the face of death only infuriated Will all the more. “You’re a good man, and you’re no less important than any stuffed shirt or governor’s daughter. If one of us has to die, may as well be me.” 

Will turned away, unable to look at him any longer. 

“I made my choice, William,” he added in a kinder tone. “A pirate will die and an innocent man will live. The world always has its way of righting itself in the end, savvy?” 

Will dragged his hands down his face and refused to open his eyes. “I had a plan, Jack. If I’d had the chance to tell them what you did, they would have seen reason and reduced your sentence. I’ve known Governor Swann since I was a child, he knows I’m no pirate and I’ve no reason to lie.” 

“But I _am_ a pirate,” Jack reminded him. 

“Pirate or not, you put an end to Barbossa’s terror and bloodshed,” Will argued as he spun back around. “You saved Elizabeth’s life and her father’s when you helped break the curse. You saved mine. Does none of that matter?” 

Jack took a sudden interest in the grime beneath his fingernails. “Saved your life? I did no such thing.” 

“When you returned to Isla de Muerta, you could have let them cut my throat, given them their mortality back and waited for Norrington and his men to finish them off. You could have taken the _Pearl_ for…” Will trailed off, gaping at the floor as the pieces came together. Jack watched him all the while, and Will could only imagine the strange picture he made as he turned several shades paler. “If you had let me die, you would’ve had everything you wanted. Your life, your freedom, your ship—” 

“And listen to that devil woman harp on about you forever? I think not,” Jack muttered. 

Will surged forward and gripped the bars, resisting the urge to reach through and slap him. “You could have let Barbossa kill me, but you didn't. Why?” 

In response, Jack grabbed a handful of his shirt and slammed their mouths together. Will lost all memory of wanting to throttle him and desperately clung to Jack, only parting from him when his chest burned from lack of air. “Does that answer your question?” 

Will said nothing, pressing their foreheads together to be as close as physically possible with the bars between them. He allowed himself to imagine just for a moment what might have been had he found Jack in a tavern instead, had Jack managed to wheedle his way into a pardon for them both instead of exchanging one life for the other. 

“They dressed your hand too,” Jack noticed after a while. He lifted his own hand to reveal that his cut had also been bandaged before cupping Will’s jaw with it. “They love a good hanging but flinch at infected limbs, evidently. They’ve postponed my turn at the gallows until it heals.” 

“I’ll wound you just to keep delaying it,” Will murmured. 

“I’m half-tempted to let you, so long as you don’t damage the valuables.” 

“I’ve grown rather fond of your face to damage it.” 

“A comforting thought, but not what I meant.” 

The smallest of smiles caused Will’s mouth to twitch, and he hid it in the uninjured part of Jack’s hand. 

“William,” Jack continued, the serious tone catching his attention, “I would rather you weren’t there when the time comes.” 

Will knitted his brow. “What?” 

He tipped Will’s chin up with his fingers. “Remember this instead. Don’t taint it with that gruesome business.” 

“You’re not going to hang, Jack,” Will clarified, leaving no room for doubt. “There must be another way. I can still go to Governor Swann, speak out on your behalf.” 

Jack tightened his grasp on Will’s shirt. “Promise me that you won’t breathe a word to him or anyone else.” 

“Are you _mad_?” Will asked. “Why not?” 

Jack bit his lip, his grip loosening and his other thumb sweeping across Will’s jaw. “No one will believe that I took you by force if you try to convince him to spare my life,” he stressed. “In their eyes, defending a pirate is as unforgivable as being one. Don’t let my sacrifice go to waste.” 

Will nodded, though he had no intention of actually allowing Jack to hang. 

“Swear to me,” Jack pressed. 

"I won’t go to Governor Swann,” he said in reluctant surrender. 

Jack was satisfied, it seemed, and dropped the subject. Will turned his head, stared down the long row of empty cells — either they’d never bothered to track down the other escaped convicts, or they’d all been executed while he and Jack were away. 

“The guards will be making their rounds soon,” Jack reminded him gently. 

In a good and just world, Will thought, Jack wouldn’t have to send him away. Wouldn’t fear that, should the two of them be caught standing so close together and speaking so intimately, Will would hang just as if he were a pirate or a murderer or a thief. 

But Port Royal was not that place. 

He remembered the sword at his hip, briefly weighing the idea of fighting whichever unlucky soul came to separate them when his presence was discovered, but he took Jack’s uninjured hand and squeezed it instead. 

“I won’t forget you,” Will said softly. 

“It was an honor to know you." 

Jack smiled, and Will noticed a faint red imprint on his cheek left behind where he had pressed against the metal bars. Will wondered if he bore his own on the opposite side, the only physical, fast-fading proof he would have that their encounter hadn't been a dream. 

With one last kiss, already wondering how soon he could arrange passage to Tortuga, Will turned to leave. 

“William?” Jack called after him. 

He stopped in his tracks and waited, unsure after a while if Jack would say anything at all. 

“She’s terribly fond of you. Don’t waste another of those opportune moments.” 

Will pretended not to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is on the shorter side, but luckily that means I should have it up in the next day or two.
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are always welcomed!


End file.
